Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (8 page)

Goliath: Thanks for stargazing with me, beautiful.

Me: Thank you for last night. I hope we can do it again soon.

Goliath: Count on it.

“All I’m saying is that man is worth turning into a slut for one night. I mean,
wow
.” Matt whistled.

“Do you think he will call?”

“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t, babe.” Matt pecked me on the cheek on his way back to the coffee pot for a warm up. “Did you see the way he was looking at you? He looked like he’d consume you whole.”

“I think he’s probably just one of those really intense types.”

“The only thing intense about him last night was how bad he clearly wanted to drag you to his bed.”

I smiled, feeling maybe a smidge triumphant. Okay, a lot triumphant. “So, what are we doing tonight?” I asked, hoping he wanted to return to Four-19.

“Cal asked me if I wanted to grab some dinner.” He shrugged, leaning against the edge of the counter with his coffee in his hands. He looked like an underwear model like that. I told him as much on a regular basis.

“So are you two a thing now?”

Matt shrugged noncommittally. “Kind of. I don’t know. We will see. I really like him.”

“He seems nice. I like him, too,” I said, thinking back to how kind and genuine he’d seemed at the art gallery.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

“Work. I have to work on the books. They will never be finished at the rate I’ve been going.”

“Good! Work. I order you to write books tonight,” Matt mocked with his finger pointed at me sternly.

“Sir, yes, sir.” I saluted him half-heartedly.

“I’m hopping in the shower.” He popped me hard on the ass as he flounced out of the kitchen, causing me to yelp. Something told me that he and Cal were definitely a thing, and I had to admit that seeing him so giddy over someone new had me thinking more about my own relationship status.

I picked my phone up ten times in ten minutes to check for any new text messages or calls from Graham.

Nothing.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing right then. Was he thinking about making plans with me? Was he moving along to the next female who would gladly hop in his bed the first time they hung out?

Part of me kicked myself for having standards and the other part of me nodded her approval at my resolve to hold off in hopes that he’d want more than one night. But how many encounters were enough? I knew that if you found yourself asking how long you had to wait to jump a guy’s bones, the answer was screw it, don’t wait at all! Be your own champion! Own your own body, mind, and spirit, and if some guy is what you want, then have at it!

Fuck you, standards!

The fact of the matter is simple. Being a woman is hard. If a woman hops in bed with a man she’s dying to sink her teeth into, then she’s a cheap whore. If she holds off until he “deserves” something that she felt like giving anyway, then she’s a prude.

It was a lose-lose situation, a catch-22, a glaring societal double standard that pretty much every American female was more than tired of.

So tired…

Why does it always have to be that the woman is “giving” something away? I say screw that! I wasn’t going to “give” anything away. I was going to take something that I wanted very badly. To hell with societal standards. If I am safe and walking into it with a clear mind and can look myself in the mirror afterwards, that’s all that should matter.

That’s all that does matter.

I wanted him. I’m almost certain that he wanted me too. He’s a grown man. I’m a grown woman. Consenting adults doing what consenting adults do. What was so wrong with me taking something I wanted?

I knew I was digging for justification to wrap my legs around him sooner rather than later, but any other sane woman in my position would have felt the same. It certainly was no help that it had been some time since my last roll in the hay and it had been unimpressive to boot.

Something told me that a night with Goliath would leave me either fully sated or fully addicted. Or both. At that moment, I didn’t actually care. I had an itch to scratch, and Goliath was the man for the job.

I had no shame. I grabbed my phone, tapped out a message quickly and sent it before I could change my mind.

Me: So what’s a girl gotta do to spend an evening with a goliath?

Goliath: You just did it. Meet me at Four-19 tonight? 6?

Me: I’ll be there.

“So much for writing books,” I muttered to myself on my way from our kitchen to my bedroom in search of an outfit that hedged somewhere between sexy and sophisticated. I seriously doubted I had anything I’d be happy with, but a shopping trip was not advisable considering my job at the magazine was still hanging in the balance and my emergency credit card from my father felt more like a loaded gun gilded in obligation to forgive him. I refused to use it.

He insisted that I have it. I refused but he eventually won out citing emergency purposes and called Anthony, my older brother, for backup. I relented for the sake of going on with my life ignoring him. I stuffed the AmEx in the junk drawer in the kitchen and haven’t seen it since.

Realizing that I’d have to make do with the wardrobe selection I had, I groaned and did what all women did before a date—I tried on every single scrap of clothing I owned.

After promising to keep my cell phone glued to my side and waving Matt off, I locked up our apartment and hailed a cab. There was no way in hell I would be walking anywhere tonight in the heels I was wearing.

The cabby pulled up to Four-19 and looked back at me expectantly. I began to pay the fare, but before I did my door swung open and a huge paw reached in handing the cabby enough money to chauffeur me to and from work for a week straight.

“Oh. Thank you,” I said, looking up at Graham.

“You’re welcome.” Without preamble, he pulled me from the cab and swept me against him.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling taken aback by his directness, then the feel of him, the scent of him, worked like a hypnotic and I relaxed against him.

“I’m sorry but that’s all I’ve been thinking about today.”

Fuck you, standards!

I wrapped my arms around him, pulled him lower to me and reveled in the feel of his solid body against mine. “Me too,” I admitted, deliberately brushing my lips against the rim of his ear.

He shivered just enough for me to notice, and I made sure to make a mental note that he liked what I’d done.

Without a word, he released me and snagged my hand. He marched us through his club and right to the elevator we had taken up to the roof the night before.

The doors slid closed and now that I was alone with him, my courage felt a tad less robust. He stared down at the control panel and jabbed the buttons almost violently.

He stood there for what felt like a long time, his palms resting against the brushed metal panels of the interior of the elevator. His head was hanging down. It struck me then how much he looked like a statue, the picture of male perfection. The elevator wasn’t moving. We weren’t ascending to the rooftop. Worry bubbled up in my throat. Why was he acting like this?

He stayed where he was, his arms bracing his body against the elevator’s wall. Without moving, he turned his head to look at me. His dark eyes looked pained, the muscle in his jaw twitched in sync with my pounding heart. I must have been the image of the proverbial deer in the headlights.

“I shouldn’t get involved with you,” he whispered almost ominously. I wanted to ask why, but my mind was reeling and words wouldn’t surface from the murky shallows of my brain.

I didn’t expect him to switch gears so quickly. His moods seemed elastic and I could relate. I knew why I was sometimes swinging from one emotion to the next. I wondered why he was. One minute he was smiling at me on the sidewalk, the next he looked as though he could barely stand to look at me.

“I don’t want to lie to you. I want you so bad it hurts. But you—you’re dangerous for me. I’ve never… You make me want to forget everything I know. You make me feel out of control, and that’s a very bad thing for a person like me. You should know—”

“So stay in control.” The words had spilled from my lips of their own volition. Inwardly, I gaped at my own tenacity.

What the fuck, Flor?

“You make it sound so simple,” he said, allowing his head to drop again. My brows furrowed as I wondered what on earth his issue was.

“It
is
that simple,” I said, stepping toward him. I lifted my hand and rested it lightly on his arm, noting how tense he was. His obsidian locks had somewhat fallen across his brow with his head stooped. His eyes reflected nothing specific, only some sort of conflict that I wasn’t yet privy to.

“Hey. You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you. You’ve been wonderful so far and I hope I’ve been the same for you. There’s no reason why we can’t at least be friends, right?”

“Oh, Flor.” A wicked smile tilted his beautiful mouth into a lopsided smile that made him look like the poster boy for mischief. “Baby, I have absolutely zero interest in being your friend.” With that, his dark eyes rose and his arms fell from their perch on the wall. He righted his big frame and prowled forward, and it was clear that whatever demon had haunted him only a moment ago, monopolizing his attention, was now excised.
I
now had his full attention.

Without thinking about it, I backed away from him until my backside was pressed against the other side of the elevator. My body was behaving like prey. My mind? My mind was inviting him to do his absolute worst because god knew how I’d been lusting for it—for him.

One hand brushed my cheek delicately, trailing its way down my neck, over my collarbone, down the back of my arm. “Do your
friends
do this to you?” he asked in my ear, his breath tickling me.

“No,” I whispered.

“Hmm. And do your
friends
do this?” he asked as he closed the remaining space between our bodies, sandwiching me between solid steel of the elevator and solid steel of his body.

“No,” I breathed, my eyes slipped shut.

“And do your
friends
do this?” I had no way of answering because his mouth covered mine in a hot, dominating kiss, the likes of which I’d never experienced. His hands cupped my face reverently while his tongue slipped against mine as though resisting him were never even an option. In truth, it probably wasn’t. I wanted him that badly and he knew it because he clearly wanted me just as much.

I moaned under his ministrations. One hand slipped down my side, delectably slow, and came to a stop on my backside. He kneaded my ass and pulled my body closer to his.

“Let me show you what else your
friends
don’t do to you, and then you can decide if you still want to be my
friend
,” he said breathlessly against my lips.

“Yes.” I all but begged, and at that point, I was most certainly not above begging. I no longer wanted him; I needed him in the worst possible way.

Without taking his dark eyes off mine, he jabbed buttons, prompting the elevator to ascend.

The doors slid open. Goliath guided both our kiss and our feet. He didn’t release me as he edged us toward the nearest couch. My eyes caught sight of something and I broke away from him with a wet pop. Just like that, the moment was ruined. I deduced that much by taking one look at the tall brunette firing eyeball-daggers at both of us.

“The trash goes
outside
, Graham. Not
in
,” she sneered with a false smile plastered in place. I gasped. If I were some kind of thick-skinned, bulletproof woman, then I supposed her words wouldn’t have bothered me, but they did.

Graham growled, his body tensed and he stepped away from me. Like he’d been caught doing something ugly, something wrong, something embarrassing. The loss of his heat made me instantly feel cold and bereft.

“Also, kindly stop bringing your one night stands to our club. We may not be on good terms as of late, but what you’re doing is tacky and bad for business.” She added more insult to injury. The long, thin fingers of her right hand twirled a thick gem encrusted band with a glittering center diamond displayed proudly on the ring finger of her left hand.

You would have to have been blind to miss it, and her worrying her credentials in just the right way so that the center stone would capture the twinkling lights from above, sending scatters of color about the room, made it clear to me that she was sending a message.

Oh my god. He’s married.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t acknowledge that I was still standing there feeling very humiliated. He only grabbed the beautiful brunette by her arm and dragged her across the room and out onto the terrace through the open doors.

I wanted to watch and hide at the same time. How the hell did I get myself into this mess? Why did I interrupt him in the elevator? What was he going to say? I felt like the world’s biggest fool.

The brunette stood in front of him radiating indignation, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. That damned ring still capturing whatever light came close enough.